


A Happiness Shared by Three

by Linguini



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddling and Snuggling, Fluff, John is a worrywart, M/M, Sleeping on the Floor, Texting, but Sherlock and Lestrade understand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-14
Updated: 2010-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguini/pseuds/Linguini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys and their understandings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Happiness Shared by Three

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unknown](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/8290) by Spacefall. 



> Written because [](http://spacefall.livejournal.com/profile)[**spacefall**](http://spacefall.livejournal.com/) made a lovely drawing [ here.](http://spacefall.livejournal.com/922530.html#cutid1)

  
It’s been eight months since Sherlock and Lestrade have enfolded John Watson into their relationship. Initially, the trio suffered through the same growing pains as any relationship, but they managed to resolve the inevitable disagreements with a minimum of fuss, and life has settled into a comfortable routine. They make no demands on each other’s time, content to take what is made available.

Given each man’s devotion to his respective calling, late nights in their household are not uncommon. Nor are early mornings or days spent away from their shared flat. For this reason, they make every effort to meet either altogether or in pairs throughout the week.

For Lestrade, these meals are a chance to clear his mind from the office. For Sherlock, they’re a reassurance that his companions are safe and whole, keeping his world in balance. John uses these as opportunities to evaluate their well-being when engaged in a case.

His experience both as a doctor and as the most trusted friend of the pair ensures that no night is spent entirely without concern over their welfare. When Lestrade and Sherlock have teamed up on a case, his worries are only doubled.

Lestrade has spent the last three nights away from the flat they share, immersed in the details of a most heinous crime and the paperwork that accompanies such a highly visible murder. Sherlock, supportive of his companion in his own way, has been trailing leads on Lestrade's behalf. Night after night he returns, covered in the mud and the blood of the rougher parts of town.

Neither Sherlock nor Lestrade can spare a thought for the heart-twisting worry that ambushes John's mind in the darkest part of the night. He doesn't begrudge them this. He understands the overwhelming passion that drives them and loves them all the more for it.

In the warm light of day, John can keep thoughts of injury and disaster from crowding his mind, reminding himself that they are strong, capable men who have spent their lives training for the chase. But at night, when he returns to an empty house, when the rooms echo with a lack of voices, his sleep is often uneasy.

It's 8 pm before Sherlock arrives back home. In truth, he's merely stopping in on his way to meet Lestrade for a dinner and the Great Revelation. This is his favorite part of any case, when he knows everything and the Yard knows nothing.

As he alights the stairs, his face twitches into a brief smile when he hears the small snuffling noises that John makes when he's exhausted himself with worry. How his partner can manage to find the space in his heart to care so much about the two of them and still demonstrate his understanding of their need for autonomy by denying his own watchful tendencies is a mystery that binds the two detectives in eternal confusion. Many an hour has been spent in contemplation of John Watson without him ever noticing.

Sherlock finds John asleep on the couch, a crossword puzzle in his hands. Tossing his suit jacket over a nearby chair, he gives into a sudden, mischievous urge and hops over the back of the couch, landing precisely an inch from John’s hip.

Unfortunately, he fails to account for John’s soldierly reflexes and almost immediately finds himself lying on the floor, eleven stone of fuzzy-headed doctor wrapped around him. The slurred running commentary John gives is enough for his mind to deduce the exact meaning of their current position.

John seems to have spent the night cataloguing every possible injury he and Lestrade could have sustained and his sleep-addled surgeon’s brain is apparently attempting to ascertain the exact extent of the damage. Sherlock gives an amused chuff as John shimmies up his body, resting his head directly over the detective’s heart.

He can practically hear the internal checklist: _Breathing, even; heartbeat, steady._ The part of his mind that understands the inner workings of John Watson knows that he will not rest easily until he is certain that there is no damage to Sherlock’s person. Keeping his torso and legs as still as humanly possible, he manages to extract his mobile from his pocket.

_Will be late. Accosted by exhausted doctor. 45 min. -SH_

Lestrade’s response comes nearly instantaneously.

_How far into the checklist is he? -L_

Eventually, John snuffles a bit and is lulled back into sleep by the thrumming in the chest beneath him. Surprisingly, Sherlock finds himself much more comfortable in their current position than he had originally assumed. Weighing John’s current level of stress and exhaustion against the adrenaline rush Lestrade will surely gain from the completion of the case, Sherlock decides to remain where he is.

Stretching one arm to act as a pillow for his head, he makes the most gracious sacrifice he can.

_Checklist complete, but remain trapped. Look for the blue barrette. -SH_

Lestrade comes home that night flushed with success and finds them there, asleep on the carpet. He knows neither John’s shoulder nor Sherlock’s back will thank them in the morning. But they fit so well and his inevitable post-case crash is imminent. With a small grin, he merely strips to his pants and undershirt and joins them, sidling up to Sherlock’s shoulder and throwing an arm over John. None of them will be happy about this arrangement in the morning, but for now it’s as comfortable a thing as any of them has ever felt.  



End file.
